


160 - Wisdom Teeth

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 08:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17403818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: A little gift to my girl Evangeline. She got her wisdom teeth out, so this one was written to make her feel better.





	160 - Wisdom Teeth

"Annnnnnnnnd. And, he's just so good. Like. He's soft. Annnn' the mushroom hair was fluffy. And sometimes he'll kiss my nose when he thinks I'm sleepin' and I've named some of his freckles but don't tell him that, 'kay?" Your speech was slurred and your head rolled around. The gauze in your mouth made your words ill-formed and hardly understandable. The anaesthetic was still working, so you were happy. You could keep talking about Van while you waited for him to come and pick you up from having your wisdom teeth out. "He's in a band and they're soooooooooooooooo good. Like. He knows that but I don't think like, proper. You should see him on stage." Thinking about Van on stage was a lot. You started to cry.

"Um. Babe?" You stopped crying and looked around for Van, following his voice. "Where do you think you are right now?”

"Huh?"

You focused hard on your environment. You were in a car. Wait. How long had you been in the car for? Where did the nurse you were speaking to go? Van started to laugh.

"Y/N. We've been driving for ten minutes. Who are you talking to?"

"The… nurse…"

"Mmmmm. Nope. Been talkin' to me about me for a while now. Did try to tell you that," he said. It didn't make sense and it hurt your head to try to work out what he was talking about, laughing about.

"What's this?!" you asked, pulling out the gauze. Van quickly pulled over, muttering swear words under his breath. He took your hands away and put the gauze back in your mouth, getting blood on his fingers in the process.

"Babe. Leave it,"

"What is it? Is that my blood! What happened? Am I dying?!"

"Jesus Christ. You're fuckin' spacing. Remind me to never let you smoke dope,"

"Van!" you yelled, but the N came out in a whisper when the yelling started to instantly hurt. He just laughed again and pulled a jacket from the back seat and put it over you. 

"Just, try to calm down, yeah? Have a nap. We'll be home soon." He drove back out onto the highway and glanced at you every few minutes. Without talking to distract you, the bumps of the road hurt your jaw and you started to moan. Van reached out and held your hand, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. "Shhhhh, baby. I got you,"

"And he loves his family so much," you said, starting to tell the nurse about Van again.

…

Inside and in bed after changing into pyjama pants with bunnies printed on them, you watched Van carry in the coffee table from the lounge and set up the television. He put Parks and Recs on, then sat on the bed with a big bowl.

"Spit," he said. You looked at him. Slowly, you shook your head. He narrowed his eyes. "You can't drink the amazin' milkshake I'm gonna make you with your mouth full of tissue, Y/N." No. You could feel the bottom of your mouth filled with blood and your head told you that if Van saw that, he'd stop loving you. "Fine. Just open up then." You painfully opened your mouth and without any hesitation, Van was pulling out the gauze. He seemed unaffected by the blood. When you closed your lips without spitting and when you face started to show disgust at the metallic taste, Van smirked. "Are ya just gonna swallow that, then?"

You parted your lips slightly and Van held the bowl out. You spat the blood up. It hurt and tears fell from your face into the red. Van rubbed your back and moved your hair.

"Hurts," you told him.

"I'll get you some of the painkillers. You're okay, baby."

Van wiped your face on the sleeve of his shirt, which was evidence of both his kindness and the fact that he didn't always think things through. The blood would probably stain but he didn't care. He left the bowl on the bedside table and disappeared. 

You listened through a headache as the blender screamed from the kitchen. Upon his return, Van was holding the best vanilla milkshake of all time. He set it down next to the bowl and handed you the painkillers. You looked at them, sharp and hard in your palm. You glanced up at Van.

"Fuck. Water. Be right back."

The water he returned with was room temperature, and he explained that if it was the nice cold cucumber water in the fridge, it would hurt more. You swallowed the pills and let Van help you put on one of his old hoodies. It was too big and your hands disappeared into it. Only half of the milkshake was gone before you passed out.

…

The bedroom was lit up by the glow of the television only when you woke. The sun had gone down, and the night had brought a biting cold with it. Under you, an electric blanket was on though. The house smelled of roasted vegetables. Your face hurt too much to be able to yell for Van, so you reached out for the remote he'd left close by, and turned the volume up continuously until he appeared in the door. Television muted, you frowned at Van. He walked to you and turned the bedside light on.

"How are you feelin'?"

"Gross,"

"You're already bruising," he said, crouching down beside the bed to look at you more closely.

"Ugly?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Never. Do you want something to eat?"

"Stomach feels bad. Swallowed too much blood,"

"That's 'cause you refuse to spit it out. I woke you a couple of times when you started to dribble spit and blood everywhere," he laughed. You looked around for evidence of that, but could only find different pillows than the ones you fell asleep on. Van handed over the bowl and you resigned to your fate. The bleeding had stopped but the wounds were raw and still turned your saliva pink and sick. "Think you should try to eat something. Can't have the painkillers on an empty stomach,"

"No soup,"

"Y/N. I know you don't like soup, but what else can you even have? Ice cream is too cold,"

"Ice cream,"

"I'm not giving you ice cream," he said with a grin and a roll of the eyes. "You're having the soup. It's not chicken noodle, so you can cope,"

"Hate chicken noodle," you mumbled as Van left the room.

The soup was essentially pureed vegetables, so it was more baby food than soup. Somehow that made it easier to eat. It felt like a medicine rather than dinner. Van ate it too but he got bread and that made you jealous. You got through half the bowl before your mouth started to bleed.

"Is this normal?" you said as you spat the blood out and started to cry. You were emotional at the best of times but when you were exhausted it really stepped up a level. Van was used to it but it didn't make it easier for him to watch. He chewed his lip as he watched you.

"Yeah. Yeah, you know that. They said it would be like this. You're okay,"

"Maybe something's wrong!"

"No, babe. You just get freaked out when you're in pain. Remember that time you sprained your wrist and you thought you'd broken a bone? You're okay," he said, lowering his voice in an attempt to settle you.

When there was no more blood to spit up you shimmied back under the blankets. Van brought you black tea that was almost white from the amount of milk in it; perfect. It helped to calm you, and the warmth of the mug in your palms was a small comfort for your aching body.

"Bed?" you asked Van as he stood against the wall, waiting to see if you need him to take the mug away.

"Yeah. Just take a couple more painkillers first, yeah?"

It was late and your extended nap hadn't done much to ease your exhaustion. Van was tired too from playing nurse. He was good at it though. In bed you couldn’t cuddle up to him like you usually did, your face needed space. With room between your body and his, you watched him play with your hand. He tapped out tunes and traced lines.

"Song?"

He nodded and got up to put your sleep playlist on. Fever Dream started to play. The drugs and the music and the gentleness of Van's hand on yours sent you into a sleep that would help heal your hurt.


End file.
